What Happens in the Courtroom
by GakupoFangirl
Summary: Gilbert Beilschimdt, the most famous lawyer in the city. He's won every case, every trial. But are Gilbert's techniques really what they seem? Rated M for language and maybe yaoi...
1. Alfred Jones's Trial

**Hello everyone. This time I'm doing a courtroom fic. I needed a quick break from trying to figure out how to schedule everything else in with my schoolwork, so I just wrote up this little drabble. If you've read the first chapter already, reread this again. Review, please.**

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><p><em>Alfred Jones has been accused for assaulting a young man, breaking into his house and fracturing his leg, also leaving dark bruises on his arms and back. Could this be a simple act of violence… or sexual assault? The lawyers have been chosen, and the case has begun. And soon it will be up to the jury to decide what must be done. But little do they know that there is a hidden force that has been and will secretly be driving all their future decisions…<em>

"Objection!" The silver-haired Russian, Ivan Braginski by name, stood up from his seat, shaking with unmistakenable _fury_. None had seen the young man so shaken and angered up until this moment; the calm and adorable disposition he had at first graced the court with had now all but vanished, the smile replaced with a maddened scowl. It was the undenyable truth: _Ivan_, despite the good impression he had given the jury at the beginning of that day, was _angry_.

The case had begun, the opening arguments given and considered. Ivan was a very new but very, seemingly and so far, potent lawyer. It was his first case, and he had given a good show so far… but now this appeared to be a turning point. His lack of practice that his opponent had gained throughout the years seemed to be working against him, and his temper was short. Apparently he had also planned his words very carefully and tried to work out as well as outthink every single question that would be asked by the latter, but his preparations had fallen a bit short.

The man himself was young and energetic, with an air of respect that hardly anyone dared to trespass. Once an immigrant from Russia, his native country from which both his parents had been born, he seemed to have never adjusted correctly to the change of temperature that was likely to be expected of a transition from Russia to England, where he now was eking out a living as a lawyer, so he adorned a long, thick, white scarf wherever he went and refused, stubbornly, to remove it. He knew this was a conflict with some of his clients and of course the judges, for no one wished to have a lawyer with a rather fixed obsession on a seemingly meaningly object, but this scarf was _special_. Given to him by his sister who had remained in Russia, it appeared to hold endless value to him, and he would not give it up, would not have it taken from him—he was the only child of his family to have moved away from his fatherland, and now he seemed compelled to cherish all memories of what was once his home.

Ivan had gone through extensive training for this job and had recently passed the bar exam the month before, and now was his chance to make his name. He, by all means, had no intention of giving the title _back_ to the one who had possessed it for so long already.

"Your Honour," reasoned Ivan, slamming his well-practiced fist onto the oaken table before him since he couldn't reach any other object. "That question is irrelevant to the case! It invades my client's personal privacy and information, and I will not accept that! Furthermore the question asked leads nowhere! What we want to know is should we or should we not convict Alfred Jones for sexual assault or simply violence, but we, of all things, should not be bombarding the _victim_ with stupid questions!"

Ivan pointed with an ever-precise finger at the defendant, and even from their seats, which were much more than a few mere yards from the lawyer's position, the members of the jury could see the burns and marks that were results of years of hard labor in the Soviet Union. "Alfred Jones," he stated carefully but lucidly, "supposedly harrased my client on several other occasions known to the court, _da_, but this is not—"

"Enough! Objection overruled!" snapped the judge, readjusting his powdered wig that refused to stay on his head properly, slipping at odd moments to reveal his natural blonde hair. "Any questioning is permitted here in the courtroom, irrelevant or not, as stupid as they may be. You forget, Mr. Braginski, that you too are subject to the law here. _The bloody law_," he muttered under his breath. However it was plainly visible to see that he thought of the man as inexperienced and harsh. "Now take your seat."

"…but… I…" Although he tried for a few moments to think of a way to argue, Ivan soon recognized defeat, and his purple eyes glowed dangerously as he somberly replied, "Yes, Your Honour…"

Ivan quickly saw that a court case run by Arthur Kirkland was not the easiest one to be won, and certainly not a case against this certain lawyer, this opponent. Any other, perhaps, but not this one.

Ivan reluctantly lowered himself back into the chair, glancing at his opponent with pure hatred, a dismaying aura omitting from him that would have completely impaired the confidence of any other lawyer than Gilbert Beilschimdt.

Gilbert smirked to himself as he sat up straighter in his seat, his confidence even stronger now that he had flared the anger of the other man. _Only a little way to go and I'll have them…_

It was perfectly obvious to guess who Gilbert would have been defending in such a case. Alfred leaned over close to the albino, whispering, "How much longer do we have to sit in here, man? You promised me an early release. I paid for it, and now I want out!"

"Give me some time, _freund_, this job is no easy feat. You think most people accused of a crime like yours get out early? Or even out at all? Listen—you're lucky if this trial lasts less than a week."

"Well, you promised me I'd get out!" Alfred's voice was rising, and Gilbert hissed for him to be silenced before any of the bailiffs or Judge Kirkland himself could notice.

"You'll get out, all right. Give me a day or two, and you'll be home free. That's a guarentee. Now shut up."

"… Gil, you got yourself a deal." The American grinned, twirling a pencil in his hand and leaning his chair back on two legs without being noticed by the judge. "I owe you one, man. That is, if we ever see each other again after this…"

"… Depends on if you're ever getting out at all, Jones. And that only happens _if_ I feel like it."

"Ha!" Alfred chuckled slyly. "We'll see about that." He continued to smile as he turned his eyes toward the judge, but after a moment he added, "I'll pay you double if you can hook me up with that judge after this."

"I'm a lawyer, Jones—not a hooker." But at this Gilbert chuckled and shook his head. "Sure, why not."

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><p><strong>Blah, so anyways that will be all. I don't think Alfred will be absolved even if I continue… I'll find a way, though, because I love this fiction. All right, please review!<strong>


	2. Chance of Manipulation

**Okay… again I am writing this courtroom story. I was asked to continue this fic, and so I shall continue it. If you haven't reread the first chapter, please do; I added a ton of important information to it. Enjoy, REVIEW please.**

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><p>Ivan, it has to be said, was not one to let another off easily for an insult without avenging himself, so soon after the incident he leaned over across the narrow aisle between the two tables, the only few feet that separated them, as close to Gilbert as he could get and muttered softly, "You conniving bastard!". Then he snapped back in his seat, sitting up straight, just as Judge Kirkland turned his head in Ivan's direction. He was smart enough not to have tried anything more.<p>

Of course, Gilbert, on the other hand, just _had_ to make a smart remark in return to the Russian lawyer, and out loud too. It was in the young man's nature, obviously, to do such a low-witted thing in the presence of a jury and a judge, an instinct which he had so carefully refrained from doing for the past years that he had been in the business for, but now he was slipping up, and he was forced to admit it to himself as Ivan leapt upon him.

And Ivan, also being quite new to the attorney's office, knew not how to control his temper at this point, especially after Gilbert had angered him once already, and certainly not after the albino had called him a "bloody Communist jackass" in front of the entire courtroom.

And so, within the next few moments, Ivan had lunged out of his seat and towards Gilbert, who immediately reacted by slamming his fist into the Russian's small nose even before he could touch Gilbert. Instantly there was a thin stream of blood trickling down the poor man's face, and the jury gasped, surprised at this reckless stunt.

"Court adjourned! Court adjourned!" The judge stood up hastily, his face red with anger as usual, his wig finally falling from his hair to reveal a neat cascade of short blonde hair that hung over his brilliant green eyes. When no one heeded this order, instead staying to watch the two men who were continuing to inflict pain on one another, he resorted to enraged shouting, showing the side of him that once used to be a policeman: "Get the bloody hell out of this room! Now, or I'll file a report against all of you!"

There was no hesitation. Within moments all the people standing in the seats of the area open to the public had fled the building, and the judge himself and several bailiffs had pried Gilbert and Ivan apart. The young Canadian and victim, Matthew, sat trembling, still in the witness stand where he had been explaining exactly what had happened from his point of view, and Alfred Jones carelessly hooted at the performance that had been given, not realizing that this action caused Arthur Kirkland to fume even more and worsening the state he was in.

"_Mr. Beilschmidt and Mr. Braginski_!" The judge fumed. "What was the meaning of all that humbug you caused? I'll not have that in my courtroom! , you know that I expected much better from you! And Mr. Beilschmidt, you have worked in the law for over five years and yet now you decide to show me no respect!"

At this moment Ivan froze, wondering if this incident could cost him his license. He was indeed very new to the law business, and this was his first case. He had planned to find a way to win, no matter how powerful the opposing lawyer was, but nevertheless this was not the way he had planned for things to end.

Gilbert also was a bit shocked by how things had worked out, but unlike his inexperienced adversary he was not at all panicked in this situation; he knew exactly what to do in such circumstances, and he would do whatever it took to keep his job. He had already gone to such incredible measures to win his cases, so what more, he asked himself, what more could hurt? If he was discovered, all would be lost either way—but he did not plan at all to be discovered. In fact he was plotting the very opposite, for it all to be hidden until the end of his career. And although he was a very affluent man, he reasoned also that he could not afford to lose his job—he loved it too much, and he wanted more…

A fear-stricken Ivan opened his mouth to speak, but the older lawyer beat him to it. "Your Honour, I lost my patience. Do not blame Mr. Braginski; it is my fault. And in the law, technically, I would say that it was I who made the insult first, and I who disgraced the courtroom. Your Honour, do not worry, none of this will ever happen again."

The hot-blooded English judge glared for a few seconds at Gilbert, and then his expression turned grim. "Fine. But do not lose control again of your anger or your words again… o-or I myself will personally strip you of your license in the law business! Is that clear, Mr. Beilschmidt?"

"_Jawohl_, we will leave it at that." The Prussian waved a hand as if swatting the matter away. "No need to worry. I will take care of the rest, Your Honour—you may leave us now."

Tossing one last angered glance at the two lawyers, Arthur turned to take his leave. "I hope that will be the case, Gilbert. I hope so. Good afternoon to the both of you, boys."

Then, turning on his heel, the young man strode away briskly to leave the other two standing together.

"I have to say, Ivan…" Gilbert put an arm around the shoulder of the other man, who gave a small and barely audible gasp—but Gilbert heard it. Chuckling, he continued, "You're pretty good at this, for someone who hasn't worked a case before! Where are you from? Moscow? Moscow, right?"

"Yes..." Ivan pushed the slightly shorter man's arm off of him and stuttered, "W-why are you… why are you acting like this? From what I heard you're supposed to be a v-very seri-oh… I-I see…"

It had instantaneously appeared to him that the Prussian was not truly the dignified, commanding, strict man he was always portrayed as in the law office. Ivan was at last beginning to see that practicing law was not exactly all that it was cracked up to be, and that there were many secrets hidden in the business itself.

"God… what did I come to this practice for… to have to go against younger people like you who want to steal my career from me?" Gilbert cackled, gesturing for Alfred to go with the bailiff, who was handcuffing him once more. "Ah, the youth of today... always so ambitious..."

Alfred winked coyly at Gilbert, knowing that the Prussian would do what he promised, and smirked as the other returned the indication. Grinning, he let the guard lead him out of the courtroom and towards the police car that he had been escorted there in.

_Damn, soon I'll be out of here in walking on the streets again… well, thank God…_

He glanced back at the courthouse once more, feeling that he would miss it once he would be permitted to leave it forever. He could already feel freedom…

… _There was the one French guy's house that I wanted to break into…_ He managed to clear his head of its sexual cravings for the minute. _That's just going to have to wait for a couple of days…_

Gilbert smiled slyly as he directed the Russian, who allowed him to lead him wherever he pleased, out the door and lighting a cigarette when they reached the sidewalks. Taking the cylinder-shaped object into his mouth and inhaling deeply, he gave a short sigh of satisfaction. "Anyhow, you're doing great, I'll tell you that. Just wait till you've been working as long as I have, you'll be a good one…"

"T-thank you…" At this the Russian's pale cheeks flushed pink. "That's appreciated, sir…"

"I'm serious about that," protested Gilbert. "Believe me, I don't say that to everyone. I called Alfred an asshole when he first met me, so… you can see that I don't compliment often."

Gilbert laughed, slapping the boy on the back. "By the way… about earlier I must apologize. The fight, that was never meant to have started up, but it just got flamed up." He snapped his fingers with the most precision and clarity Ivan had ever seen a man of their breed, the kind of droll people in the law business, had done. "And then half the courtroom is bursting in chaos. I think I could make it up to you, _nein_?"

"_N-nyet_… you really don't have to do that, Mr. Beilschmidt… an apology is all that is required, and it has been given."

"Who says an apology is all that's required? Anyways…" He checked his watch. "I'm free tonight. Want to grab a drink to celebrate your first day? My treat—don't have work tomorrow anyways!"

"… I… I really don't know about this… but…" Ivan gazed, unsure, into the other man's saphire eyes. "A-all right."

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><p><strong>Yes, if you all guessed already <strong>_**Matthew**_** is Alfred's victim :D. Just something I liked to add… And in the next chapter something interesting will happen. It altogether will be an interesting chapter, I think, so… expect the new chapter soon! Danke, please review!**


	3. I'm Back! (Author Note)

I'm back, people! I'm totally back and ready to go for more fanfiction! I know I've been idle for over a year, but no time better than the present!

Well, see you guys around!


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